Once Upon a Midnight Beat
by Der Auspuff
Summary: Zemyx fic for 9/6/2010. Demyx is hellbent on defeating his three Ds: depression, drinking and loneliness. Or that's two Ds and an L, but you get the point. It's more that he's using the second D to get rid of the first two and- Well, he finds love.


A bead of hot sweat races down Demyx's face, his heart pounding audibly in his ears. A sly hand moment brushes away the sweat, ending up looking rather flirtatious and seductive. The alcohol in his veins leads his body to act on its own, dancing of its own accord with whomever crosses its path. His eyes selectively take in those around him-when they're open. It's as if he's in a daze, an alcohol induced trance. Has there ever been a better way to get over a break up? He doubts it, but the thought is so fleeting it barely counts.

The music thuds in time with his pulse, his hips pulsating to the notes. Bodies rub against his, but they keep changing, wandering off to find someone more to their liking. Demyx feels like a passing fancy, but it doesn't bother him. He's here to dance and drink and forget.

So far he's accomplished the first two. The forgetting comes later. The forgetting does need one of those passing strangers, or at least it does tonight, preferably before one of his friends drags him away because they're _tired_ or because they themselves found a date and don't want to leave Demyx alone and drunk and depressed. Yep, the three Ds. ...no, that was two.

He giggles to himself, a grin crossing his lips at the thought. Then he laughs out loud as his favorite song enters his ears. Yes! His air guitar skills come out strong and true, hitting every note with the precision of a practiced performer of the invisible art.

His back almost at a 90 degree angle to his shins, his head thrown back in the intensity of his air guitaring, he falls backwards, stumbling, trying to keep his balance, but he doesn't succeed until he runs into someone. That someone had seen him coming and now has him in his arms, letting the blonde droop in the relatively strong grip. His tense, sweating body relaxes and he smiles up at his savior, eyes only half open.

"Thanks," he sighs, head resting against his savior's flat stomach.

The man-for he is indeed male, with a chest like that-hefts him a little, as if to signal for Demyx to get off of him now. Demyx does not comply, too incredibly comfortable to move.

"Excuse me," the person holding him says in his ear. He shivers. That voice sends chills down his spine. He opens his eyes, looking up at the man above him and his smile falters. He can't look away from the piercing, if slightly foggy gaze.

He must have stayed like this for a few moment because the man repeats "excuse me," this time a little harsher. That jogs Demyx's brain and he moves to put his feet underneath him, then tries to drag himself upright. It fails, though, since his muscles had already relaxed and haven't, as of yet, regained the ability to support his weight.

"Uh...could you...help?" He laughs out, smiling pleadingly at the man, who, whenever their eyes meet, still causes Demyx's mind to shut down, only to reboot a few seconds later.

"It would be my pleasure," the man replies, shifting Demyx to his feet, pushing his forward slightly, but keeping a firm had on his chest for support. The touch makes Demyx's heart pound. He only stumbles one step this time, then steadies himself. He touches the hand on his chest carefully, feeling the warmth there. It makes his skin tingle.

"Thank you," he says again, stepping back to whisper it in the man's ear in a seductive voice. The whole next to the ear thing can be passed off as because of the loud music, the tone is something all his own.

Now that they are pressed up against each other, Demyx can tell that the other man is shorter than him-how cute!-even if it isn't by too much. He twists around, still keeping hold of the hand in his and looks down at him.

The man is staring almost blankly at him, as if he's in shock. It makes Demyx laugh softly, another smile playing across his lips. "What, I don't get a 'you're welcome'?"

The blush passes over the other man's face and he coughs, looking away.

"Oh, I guess not...you just sort of seemed like the type, is all. So..." He makes a show of searching for a word, a hand running over the man's blush. "Gentlemanly."

"Ah," the man chokes out, blinking at Demyx, "I just hadn't..." Demyx's smiling face lowers closer to his, listening intently, making the man stutter in his intoxicated state, "gotten around to...it."

This makes Demyx smile more brightly, moving even closer to the other man. "Then, can I repay the kindness?" It is a terrible line, but hey, he's drunk, depressed and alone. The three Ds! ...or not.

The man looks confused, his visible eyebrow raising. It was so mysterious, with half of his face covered by that entrancing hair. "And how... do you intend to do tha-"

He's cut off by Demyx's lips covering his for a soft, chaste, if prolonged, kiss. Demyx moves back, a thumb brushing over the man's cheek again.

"Oh," he says, eyes opening to stare at Demyx again as if he were the eighth wonder of the worlds. Demyx's brows furrow, confused by that expression.

"Did...was that bad repayment?" He asks, in all seriousness.

"N-no!" The man says, visible eye widening further. "It was good-a good repayment-!" He stops his stuttering sentence and takes a deep breath before looking back at Demyx and beginning again. "I'm... not sure if that was adequate repayment for saving you from public embarrassment and injury." He states firmly.

Demyx is taken aback and almost begins to spout out a hurt, confused whine when he catches on. "It...wasn't?" He wonders, pressing a finger to his lips, pretending to think. "But then what would be?"

"Perhaps... you could start by doing that again." He says it hesitantly, as if unsure of the response he'll get. Demyx knows though, and Demyx complies.

"It would be my pleasure." Repeating the man's words from earlier, smooth, Dem, he thinks as he moves in, but those thoughts are banished as their lips touch again. Demyx cradles the man's head in one hand, angling him closer for a deeper kiss, hopefully a more _fitting_ repayment. Not that he wants this to end. This man is so...so...adorable. Yeah, that's it. Adorable! But not in the cute puppy way, no, but in the way that he acts all pompous and smart even though he really doesn't know what's going on.

The man's hand on Demyx's chest clutches there, his other going around Demyx's waist. Demyx holds him close as well, tongue flicking out to taste him. Huh. Cognac. Expensive tastes, but who is he to judge? He's the one who took a shot of Absinthe. And he was disappointed when there were no green fairies, but he thinks that this sort of makes up for that.

The kiss lasts longer than either of them is aware, the music shifting songs at least four times, the kiss in rhythm with each one because, let's face it, if there's music, Demyx moves to it. Whether it's dancing, kissing, air guitaring or having sex. He moves with the music, and this man is complying. Perfect.

Breathless, the man breaks away from the kiss. Demyx gasps at the sudden availability of air, head resting on the man's forehead.

"I think," the man tries to say, hoarse, "that about covers it."

"Really?" Demyx pants out. "I don't know if it really did..."

The man leans back to look at him, confused again. "What are you suggesting?"

Demyx smiles slyly, eyes shifting to the door, then back at the man.

The man's eyebrow raises again. "Really." He says. It's not a question, but a statement.

"Yeah, really. I dunno when the last time I had a kiss like that was and dammit I'm not gonna pass up a chance like this!" And this is the third part, isn't it? The forgetting. This guy has already helped him halfway there, he is sure.

"It was...that good?" The guy asks, surprised again.

"What-you didn't think so?" Oh, low blow. Demyx thinks that that was something to continue...or is he really that bad-?

"No, I just... hadn't thought I'd be very good at that." He's blushing again, the pink complimented by his hair color, even in the flashing darkness.

"Trust me," Demyx leans in to whisper in his ear again, "you are."

-

Somehow they end up stumbling back to Zexion's apartment-that's the man's name, Demyx discovered. It's nice to have a name to go with the face, the body that keeps catching Demyx's eye, the eyes that glint in the pale street lighting, that hair that's been taken to hell and back with coloring, the kisses that they keep sharing all along the journey.

Demyx told him his name too, and they shared a laugh about how weird both names were. Zexion pointed out that they had to be two of the few names to contain Xs, and that the Z and Y combination had to be some sort of sign. When questioned further, he had no idea what he was talking about.

They laugh as they enter the apartment, only to stop when their bodies come into too close contact and they both pause and look at each other before diving in for a kiss at the same time. Zexion crashes into the wall as he tries to lead them, movie style, to his bedroom while still involved in a very heated kiss.

Once in the room, Demyx pulls Zexion along with him towards the bed, shoving the smaller man down beneath him. The kiss rarely breaks as both try to tear off their own clothes, Demyx straddling the man under him. Demyx's mouth is on Zexion's neck as they both fumble to remove their belts, and neither can really do anything for their lowered motor skills and close proximity, so it ends in more laughter as hands collide and eyes meet.

A blank moment as they stare, neither really sure what to do next. Soon, though, the alcohol kicks back in and Demyx is sliding down Zexion's body, kissing his chest as he makes his way to the man's waistband. Kissing along that line makes Zexion squirm and moan in a way that arouses Demyx completely. He shivers, nibbling at the bit of flesh right about his button as his fingers undo the belt buckle and the button.

Apparently, Demyx is feeling rather devilish today. He's surprised by himself as his teeth take a hold of Zexion's zipper and pull it down. The separation of mind and body is alcohol's greatest accomplishment, but Demyx isn't going to complain. He has Zexion panting and arching as Demyx's hot mouth tug the zipper across his very apparent bulge. Hot eyes trace it as his fingers grasp those pesky, sexy jeans to drag them slowly down Zexion's leg, Demyx's mouth following and kissing the newly-exposed skin.

Zexion's hands come down to grip Demyx's hair now, as if calling for him to come back. Demyx answers and is immediately caught up in a fierce kiss. His body falls almost limp on top of Zexion, what little is left of his mind absorbed by keeping up with the fast, passionate kiss. Then Demyx presses down and Zexion presses up and before they know it there's a rough, frictional rhythm going, keeping its own beat, until Zexion growls and begins fumbling with Demyx's own jeans, undoing the belt and getting the zipper down. Demyx handles the rest, kicking them off, along with his boxers, until he is left bare. He groans at the freedom, pressing back down onto Zexion, whose boxers are still barring them from touching completely, skin on skin.

Moaning audibly, Demyx slides his way back down to be able to rid Zexion of the article, lowering them until he has a full view of the man, the mystery man who was the savior of his night in so many different ways. Man, he's gorgeous. But not in the super model, tanned as a pruning grape, but in the tux and wine combo. The sort of gorgeous that is elegant, even when sweating and naked. It makes Demyx want him even more.

He kisses he place where Zexion's leg meets his hip, then a place a little below that, then breaths up his shaft until he can kiss the tip, pressing his mouth to it and kissing it softly. Zexion stiffens, arcing towards him. Demyx takes that as an invitation and slowly lowers his mouth onto the man's erection, tongue circling lazily around it as he goes down, down, down until he's taken the man whole into his mouth.

Zexion bucks up into him and he coughs, holding him down with one arm. Good thing his gag reflect is shot for the night! Or...at least for now.

He sucks and licks and kisses until Zexion cries out for him to stop, tugging on his hair again. He peers up at the blue haired man-which definitely isn't his natural color, as Demyx now intimately knows.

"You okay?" He asks, wiping his mouth and moving up to look into Zexion's eyes, concerned.

"Y-yes, more than okay, just-" He's panting, hot and slick and really quite pretty, for a guy. But not pretty like-oh fuck it.

"Just what?"

"Just-what about-you?" His eyes flick down to Demyx's own erection, which is painfully hard.

"Uh..." Demyx follows his gaze. "I dunno... Don't you, like, wanna come or something?" His brain is too muddled to think beyond that.

"Not... without you. That's..." a slow, sexy smirk that makes heat shoot through Demyx's body, "not gentlemanly."

Then Demyx is smiling and kissing him long and hard, their bodies getting back into that hardly-established griding rhythm without permission, but also without protest.

"Okay," Demyxs says, hoarse, when the kiss breaks for a second. "So how d'you wanna do this?"

Zexion looks completely blank for a moment, then scoots out from under Demyx, who moves to let him get up. He stays sitting, obviously dizzy. Demyx places a hand on his shoulder and Zexion nuzzles it, then stops himself and stares at the hand, at Demyx.

"You don't, uh, do this a lot, d'you?" Demyx asks, smiling softly.

"No...not really," Looking away, Zexion shoves himself to his feet, only to catch himself on his bedside table. It is apparently what he was after as with a small satisfied noise he pulls open a drawer to rummage for something. Demyx stares at the pale skin so hard that he almost doesn't notice when Zexion tries to come back to the beck and ends up falling into Demyx's lap, looking up at him from the floor.

"See, now we're even," Zexion says, a small smirk on his lips.

"Heh, I guess we are!" And he kisses him on the lips, upside down. It's kinda cool, and really weird, and confusing to Demyx's muddled mind.

Zexion pulls back and holds up the stuff he got from his drawer. Lube. Demyx snatches it from him, giggling. Self-warming lube, no less!

"So, is this still repayment, or is it just for us now?" He twirls the tube and manages to throw it across the bed. They both just...watch it fall, then look at each other, then back at it.

Zexion ponders for a moment. "I think... it's just for us now."

"Good!" Demyx falls back to grab the tube again. Zexion crawls up next to him and their eyes meet again.

"You wanna-" Demyx says at the same time as Zexion asks: "Who should-"

They stare at each other for another moment until both burst out laughing, and somehow end up a lot closer when the laughter finally dies.

"I..." Zexion begins, a hand tracing Demyx's cheek, "was wondering...would you like to top, or should I?"

"Um..." Demyx tries to watch the hand, but can't, and returns his gaze to Zexion's, who is watching him as steadily as a drunk person can, which altogether is rather well. "I don't know."

"Neither do I," Zexion smiles and fingers the bottle of lube. "I'll play you for it."

Demyx looks at him quizzically. "Play...what?"

"Roshambo," he says, perfectly seriously.

"...what?"

Zexion chuckles. "Or, as it is more commonly known... 'rock, paper, scissors'."

Demyx's mouth hangs agape. "You-you wanna play rock, paper, scissors. For who tops."

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No!" Demyx says, too loudly. "I sort of like the idea!" He laughs and kisses Zexion playfully, holding out his fist. Zexion's joins his and they pause.

"Ready?"

"Perfectly."

"Rock, paper, scissors!" They say in unison, hands moving to the words. Demyx's hand curls into a fist and Zexion holds out two fingers. A pause, and then Zexion smiles slightly.

"It seems you'll be needing this," Zexion closes Demyx's hand over the lube and kisses him again, pulling Demyx back on top of him. Demyx follows, fumbling with the lid of the lube. He manages to open it and the slick stuff covers his hand. Self-warming indeed!

They press into another kiss, the hot pressure back after their awkwardly fun conversation. Demyx swears in the back of his mind that he struck gold with this guy. Who else would propose rock, paper, scissors to see who tops? Surely not his ex. Definitely not him.

As Demyx's hand brushes over Zexion's erection again, the man moans softly into the kiss, pulling him closer. He strokes it a few times, enjoying the sounds that Zexion made, but he can't wait much longer himself and his hand wanders further back. Zexion parts his legs, then slides them around Demyx's waist after a moment's hesitation. Their erections brush at the action and Demyx lets out a soft groan, pausing in his movements at the sensation. Regaining some of his wits, he tries to remember just what he had been doing and end up figuring it only as Zexion thrusts up against him insistently.

Zexion stiffens again, then relaxes, and kisses Demyx's jaw, eying him slyly. Demyx takes the cue to continue and adds another finger, scissoring them, circling to make him relax quicker. Their lips remained locked as Demyx concentrated, only half-focused on the kiss.

Apparently Demyx got distracted listening to the sounds or something because Zexion's talking and it takes a bit to understand the words in that high-and-mighty tone the blue-haired man likes to use.

"Oh, just hurry it up," Demyx looks at him, scared that he did something wrong, but there's that smirk again and Demyx claims those annoyingly adorably smirking lips as he adds two more fingers, being less gentle now.

Zexion gasps and arches up against him, rendered incapabale of that stupid haughty speech. Demyx smirks and repeats the movement and Zexion does it again. Hah, gotcha.

"Demyx," Zexion gasps, close to his ear. Demyx feels like he could almost come already just from those words and that hot wet breath against his skin.

"Z-Zexion..."

"I-You can stop now. It's-I'm ready."

Demyx slowly slides his fingers out and grabs for the lube again, applying some to himself. He positions himself, then looks at Zexion, who smiles in such a way that its obvious that he's still drunk, but also that he is totally ready for this. Demyx pushes in, slowly, and his breath catches. It's so...so... He pushes in more and Zexion moves his body to meet him, both panting hard.

"Move," Zexion orders him breathlessly. Demyx has no intention of denying that order and pulls out, then thrusts back in, mouth hungrily catching Zexion's. The two are caught in the pulsing movement of thrusting and moaning and kissing and breathing, sweat slick on their bodies. Demyx's mind recedes back into that drunken place, so overcome with lust and pleasure that he can't seem to find anything else in the world but the man moving with him.

At some point, he notices that Zexion has his hand on himself. He still has enough sense left to brush against the hand, his own joining it as they pump his erection together until Zexion cries out, body convulsing and tensing and with his own hoarse cry Demyx finally gives in to what he'd been trying desperately to hold onto.

They collapse together onto the soft, soft sheets, not a care that theyre both a sweating mess. Demyx's last thought before sleep overcomes him is that for once in his life he's glad for his bad balance and clumsy feet.

-

The next morning, Demyx wakes up to the smell of coffee. He blinks blearily around the room, his head a little fuzzy. Who made coffee?

Yawning, he sits up, stretching his arms and wincing. What happened last night? A flash of blue and silver, soft, bare skin and panting breath fills his head. Oh. So that's what happened. He'd met a guy, kissed him and then came home with him. While completely smashed. He remembers certain bits completely clearly, when he'd been totally lucid, brought back to reality by the man's-Zexion's, he remembers that name-dry humor. They'd played rock, paper, scissors for sex. How...romantic?

Demyx rubs a hand through his hair. "What a night," he mumbles, scooting his legs over the side of the bed. Pants. Pants are useful! Very useful... He doesn't want to wander around a near stranger's apartment naked, even if they did have amazing, drunken sex the night before.

Somehow, he finds them. They're neatly folded on a chair in the corner of the room. He looks at them, puzzled, but puts them on all the same. He gives his shirt a Look, then decides against it. That thing has seen enough.

Okay. Door. Doors are easy to find! And it is, as Demyx stubs his toe against it and begins swearing loudly. He's hopping around the room, cradling his foot when Zexion walks in, coffee in hand and a bemused expression on his face.

"Are you..." He raises an eyebrow at Demyx's antics. He sheepishly drops his foot, rubbing it against his other leg.

"I, uh, stubbed my toe..." Demyx says, pointing accusingly at the open door.

Zexion looks only slightly amused and Demyx's stomach drops. Shit. The morning after. This isn't starting so well.

"Will you survive?" The dry tone to Zexion's voice causes Demyx to laugh.

"Uh, yeah, I think I will. Unless..." His gaze is drawn to the cup of coffee in Zexion's hand.

"Unless?"

"I don't know if I'll be fully healed until I have some coffee!" He replies cheerfully, then clutches his head, his own voice causing it to throb.

"That can be arranged," Zexion smiles, very slightly. "Follow me."

Alright. So maybe this won't be so bad! Demyx starts to bound after him, but slows down due to the pounding in his head. Not good, not good...

"Nice place," he comments, trying to fill the silence-it was true, the place had class.

"Thank you." They reach the kitchen, just as nice as the rest and immaculate-what sort of guy _is_ Zexion anyways?

The man in question pours some coffee from the maker into a mug. "Milk, sugar?"

"Uh, both, please," okay, okay, awkward. We should talk about last night, shouldn't we? Or is that not the sort of thing you talk about after... I don't know! Demyx's thoughts are scrambled and he takes a seat at the small wooden table against the wall.

Zexion silently passes him his coffee and sits across from him, watching him.

Demyx fidgets uncomfortably, sipping at the coffee and almost burning his mouth. He sets down the mug and clasps a hand to his mouth to keep in a yelp.

Again, that eyebrow is raised on Zexion's part and Demyx flushes. "Hot." He manages around his hand, then removes it.

More silence ensues.

"So..." Demyx looks up from where he's been contemplating his coffee.

Zexion sets down the mug he's been cradling and speaks for what feels like the first time in forever. "I'm not ashamed of what happened last night, but it was... unusual. I was rash in my decisions, but I don't regret them."

Blinking, Demyx tries to take that all in. "O...kay. I guess I don't either, I mean, I would if you did, because I was really drunk and all, and I sort of came on to you, so..." He looks back down at his mug, tracing a finger around the rim.

"We're both at fault, if we're going to call it that."

"Hah, you can say that again." Demyx smiles ruefully at his coffee.

"It would be rather pointless." Demyx catches the smile on Zexion's lips just before it disappears.

"So, you're not, you know, hurt or anything? I think I did everything right, but I can't be too sure..?"

"I'm perfectly fine, other than what's to be expected. I'm afraid that I'm not very, ah, experienced in that area. I hope that that did not detract from your...night." He finishes lamely, looking away.

Demyx gapes at him. "No! Not at all! I really enjoyed it! A lot!" He flails over his words, almost knocking his mug off the table. "W-wait. You're not saying that you're a virgin or anything, are you?"

Zexion turns back to him sharply. "No. I'm not. Or, I wasn't. Neither."

"Oh...okay then!" Demyx's smile returns and he sinks back comfortably into the chair. "That's good because, you know, it'd be sort of weird and awkward if you were. I dunno if I would've liked being the one to take it, your virginity, that is."

The illusive smile appears once again on Zexion's lips. "I'm not so sure. It would'nt have been a _terrible_ first time."

Demyx chuckles, "Thanks. I like to think that I'm adequate."

"Adequate enough to go out on a date with me next Saturday night?"

Demyx's eyes shoot up to Zexion's face. "Wait, like really?"

He receives a nod and a skeptical look in response.

"Uh, sure! Here, have my number!" He pats down his jeans, finding his phone buried deep in one pocket and flicks it on, exchanging it for Zexion's.

They chat for a while longer about everything and anything, until something reminds Demyx to check the time and he jumps. "Shit! I have a gig in two hours! Oh, uh, I'm really sorry, Zexion." He gets up to his feet looking apologetically at Zexion.

"It's no problem. I myself have a rather intriguing novel which is calling for my attention."

That causes Demyx to snicker, getting him a pointed stare from Zexion. "Oh, you're serious? What sort of book?"

"A good one," he says mysteriously. "You really should finish changing before you leave."

Demyx jumps and almost runs into the bedroom. He had been about the leave with only his pants on. Scrambling to dress, he turns around to see Zexion leaning against the door frame with a bemused expression. Demyx makes a questioning noise, but ends up tangled in his shirt and it turns into a growl.

Once he's dressed and straightened out, Zexion leads him to the door. "I must thank you, Demyx, for a most interesting night."

"Uh, yeah, same," Demyx grins down at him. It's so strange, it feels like they've known each other forever, even though the only contact they've had is one drunken night. "I had a really great time. And, hey, it's all thanks to my clumsiness, huh?"

"Indeed," Zexion laughed.

"So...I guess I'll see you next week then? Give me a call! Or I'll call you! Uh, well, we'll see, right?" Demyx scruffs a hand through his hair nervously, then leans in quickly to kiss Zexion on the lips before hurrying off. "Bye! I'll see you later!"

"Bye," Zexion says, watching him leave.

A bead of sweat trails down Demyx's face, his heart pounding audibly in his ears. He's going to be late, but frankly he doesn't care. He has a hunch that he just met the man of his dreams last night, and his friends will probably call it a rebound, but he knows that it isn't. Who cares about his ex. He's forgotten his ex, and he got drunk and went dancing. He doesn't even feel that depressed anymore, but that could just be because he got laid last night. With a really hot guy. But not like exotic dancer hot, more like a simmering flame hot, like something out of a book, some sort of mysterious man who is just somehow gorgeous, pretty and incredibly hot all at once. Oh, and did he mention cute?


End file.
